All Shot Up_ The Classic Crime Thriller - Chester Himes [44]
“That’s the way we got it figured, boss,” Coffin Ed said.
“What the hell do you mean, by that?” Casper flared again.
“Nothing, boss. Just that dead men don’t talk, is all,” Coffin Ed said.
Casper didn’t move. He stared from one to the other through obsidian eyes. “If you’re insinuating what I think, I’ll break you both,” he threatened in a voice that sounded very dangerous.
For a moment there was only the sound of labored breathing in the room. The sound of muted footsteps came from the corridor. Down on a nearby street some halfwit was racing a motor.
Finally Grave Digger said lispingly, “Don’t go off half-cocked, Casper. We’ve all known each other too long. We just figured you wouldn’t want any talk from anybody with the campaign coming up you’ve got to organize before November.”
Casper gave in. “All right, then. But just don’t try to needle me, because I don’t needle. Now I’ll tell you what I know, and, if that don’t satisfy you, you can ask me questions.
“First, I didn’t recognize any of the mother-raping bandits, and I know goddam near everybody in Harlem, either by name or by face. There ain’t nobody in this town who could pull a caper like that I wouldn’t know, and that about goes for you, too.”
Grave Digger nodded.
“So I figure they’re from out of town. Got to be. Now how would they know I was getting a fifty-G payoff? That’s the fifty-thousand-dollar question. First of all, I haven’t told nobody, none of my associates, my wife, nobody. Secondly, I didn’t know exactly when I was going to get it myself. I knew I was getting it sometime, but I didn’t know when until the committee secretary, Grover Leighton, came into my office last night and plunked it down on my desk.”
“Rather early for it, wasn’t it? Early in the year, I mean,” Coffin Ed said.
“Yeah. I didn’t expect it until April or May. That would be sooner than usual. It don’t generally come through until June. But they wanted to get an early start this year. It’s going to be a rough election, with all these television deals and war issues and the race problem and such crap. So how they got to know about it before I knew about it myself—I mean the exact time of the delivery—is something I can’t figure.”
“Maybe the secretary let it slip,” Grave Bigger suggested
“Yeah. Maybe frogs are eating snakes this season,” Casper conceded. “I wouldn’t know. But don’t you boys tackle him. Let him work it out with the other white folks —” he winked—“The Pinkertons and the commissioners and the inspectors. Me—I don’t give a goddam how they found out. You boys know me—I’m a realist. I don’t want no out-of-town mother-rapers robbing me. I want ’em caught—you get the idea. And if you kill ’em that’s fine. You understand. I want everybody to know—everybody on this goddam green earth—that can’t no mother-rapers rob Casper Holmes in Harlem and get away with it.”
“We got you, boss,” Coffin Ed said. “But we don’t have any leads. You know everything forward and backward, we thought maybe you might have some ideas. That’s why we got here ahead of the confederates.”
Casper allowed himself a grim smile. Then it vanished. “What’s wrong with your stool pigeons?” he asked. “They got the word around in Harlem that can’t nobody have the runs without your stool pigeons telling you about it.”
“We’ll get to them,” Grave Digger lisped.
“Weil, get to them, then,” Casper said. “Get to the whorehouses and the gambling joints and the dope pushers and the call girls. Goddam! Two hoods with fifty G’s are going to splurge on some vice or other.”
“If they’re still in town,” Coffin Ed said.
“If they’re still in town!” Casper echoed. “Two of ’em are niggers, and the white boy’s a cracker. Where the hell they going to go? Where would you go if you pulled a caper for fifty G’s? Where else would you look for kicks? Harlem’s the greatest town on earth. You think they’re going to leave it?”
Both detectives